Playing God 17 (Patreon)

Playing God 17

Charlie Foxtrot

After a year abroad, I returned to Westeros. More specifically, I returned to the soybean garden I’d extorted from Doran.

According to the book I saved in YGGDRASIL, soybeans could be grown and harvested in three to four months, meaning Sarella could have had three or four harvests in my absence. And, since these beans could be stored in a dry place for months, she probably had quite the stockpile for me.

Well, either that, or she ate them all. I wouldn’t mind that; the farmer deserved her due. I’d intentionally not included a cookbook because I wanted to see what she’d do with the crop given Dorne’s cuisine.

I found Sarella and three other young girls tending my field. The soybean plants had grown as tall as them and ripened yellow and gold. They carried short sickles and a basket in either hand and moved carefully through the plants.

I landed behind them with an approving smile. Clearly, Sarella had taken the task I’d left her seriously. Her dusky complexion was a shade darker now, tanned by the sun and with calloused hands that came from hours spent toiling in the field.

“Well done,” I spoke. They yelped in surprise. One almost dropped her sickle but a tail reached out to catch it. “You’ve done a good job, Sarella.”

“Charlie? You’re back!” she cried happily. The excitable girl began chatting a mile a minute. “Are you just visiting? How long will you stay? I tried making tofu but I just got grainy mush.”

“Did you now? I suppose I never did leave you instructions. What have you been doing with them? You should have had three harvests, right?”

“This is the fourth. We still have a bunch even if we don’t count this harvest. The book you gave me said we should store them somewhere cool and dry so father let us repurpose an old smokehouse.”

“Good, good, I’m proud of you, little one,” I said, patting her head.

“Hey, I’m five and ten, you know,” she growled cutely, slapping my hand away. “I am a woman grown, and the finest archer in Sunspear!”

“And also the finest farmer?” I teased.

“Obviously!”

“Are you now? And what has this ‘finest archer and farmer in Sunspear’ been doing with all the soybeans? Have you tried cooking with them?”

“Well, the cooks have been using them like any other bean. They taste fine in soups or mashed with butter. Father likes them roasted with salt and paprika. Oh, some of our banners took samples to see if they can be grown in places other than your garden.”

“Hoh? Any luck?”

“No, they all dried out. Your garden is special, neither too hot nor too cold,” she said. She began shuffling her feet. She looked up at me, sun-kissed face and large, doe eyes staring expectantly. “So…? I did good?”

I rolled my eyes. I knew what she wanted. Scooping her up in my arms, I booped her nose and said, “Yes, Sarella Sand, you may demand any knowledge from me. Provided that I have the capacity to give it to you, and that the knowledge is not dangerous to you or others, I will comply.”

“Really? Can I have an example? You know, so I know what-all I can ask for,” she asked coyly. She really was the most intelligent of her siblings.

“Hmm… Are you trying to weasel out more information from me?”

“No…?”

“Nice try, Sarella.” I pulled a cookbook from my inventory. It was a list of recipes using soybeans, from soy sauce to inarizushi. “Here, you can have this as a consolation prize. I especially recommend the tofu, miso, and soy sauce recipes I’ve earmarked for you. They’re key ingredients in Japanese cuisine.”

“But… I wasn’t going to ask for a cookbook,” she pouted.

“That’s just for free,” I told her. “You can still ask me for a book.”

“Oh, that’s okay, then.” Her expression did a full one-eighty as she cradled the book against her chest. She opened the book to a random page, marveled at the photographs, then paused. “Wait, I can’t read any of this.”

“Hmm? Oh, right. Here,” I said, handing her an unremarkable, copper ring. “It lets you comprehend any language, spoken or written.”

“A-Any?”

“So long as there is a message that can be understood by the wearer’s mind and is not being deliberately obscured by magic or codified cipher, any. It’s based on the Tongue of Sun and Moon, a high-level Monk feat.”

“Valyrian? Ibbenese? YiTish?”

“All of it. Japanese, Mandarin, English, Orcish, Elvish, Gnomish, Draconic, and anything else in my library as well. It’ll also attune itself to you so no one else can use it. I promised knowledge, not a magical tool to be passed around for convenience.”

That got me a squeal of delight and another hug.

Truthfully, the ring was worth more than any book she could have asked for. Any diplomat, merchant, or spymaster would kill to have such an artifact. I would have to invest a bit of time to make sure she was adequately protected.

But I didn’t mind. I found her love of knowledge refreshing. Feeding that hunger was something I was delighted to do, especially after my time at the Genji School. As great as Yamamoto was, his school was all about survival and war by necessity. It felt good to nurture someone purely for their love of knowledge.

Just so there wouldn’t be any hard feelings, I also gave Sarella’s three assistants golden statues of foxes, each as large as their forearms and made of solid metal. Whether they melted them down or kept them as heirlooms was up to them.

I then began to pull from my library. Tome after tome emerged from my inventory, levitating around me. “What will it be, Sarella? I have anthologies of great heroes and gods, you know, stories from that First Age when the world was young and gods walked among men, stories I can personally guarantee are true.

“Or maybe something closer to this age? I have the writings of political philosophers, men who shaped the fate of kingdoms with ink and quill. I can also give you the biographies of great explorers like Ferdinand Magellan or Vasco da Gama. Generals, sages, kings, or even peasants who rose up to claim a destiny greater than their births would dictate.

“Or would you prefer something more practical? Perhaps a book on bowyering? I remember you begging Oberyn for a goldenheart bow from the Summer Isles. A book is not a bow, but I bet that the techniques listed here can be used to craft a bow that’s at least as good.”

Her eyes were as wide as saucers. She darted from book to book, pulled in a dozen directions. She was practically salivating at the treasure trove of knowledge I dangled before her. I now knew what choice paralysis looked like and it looked adorable.

Until finally, she shook her head, as if to physically empty it of all the ideas I’d put in her noggin. She gazed up at me with eyes resolute, and I knew then that she’d long since had an answer in mind.

“No,” she said firmly. “They are all impressive tomes, oh fluffiest of gods, but I already know what I want.”

“Oh? Very well, Sarella Sand. What is it that you demand of the god of foxes and beans?”

“I want a book about farming and plants and all the things that can be done to improve a kingdom,” she said. Her voice was firm but I saw the way her gaze listed towards the tomes I laid out before her. “I want to learn about crops that can grow under our harsh sun, knowledge that can save lives, and inventions that can enrich my people.”

“Did Doran put you up to this? It’s a noble answer, but I meant this gift to be for you alone,” I chided gently. “You’re allowed to be selfish with this, little one.”

“He didn’t tell me anything. This is something I decided on my own,” she insisted. I knew by the look in her eyes that she was telling the truth. “I… I had a long time to think while tending your garden and reading the book about soybeans you left me.”

“And what did you think about?”

“I learned about soybeans, but I also learned that I know too little. Dorne knows too little. Our library is the best in Dorne, but it’s a joke to you, isn’t it?”

“That is true. There is a lot that humans can do, even without magic,” I agreed. Curious, I prodded in spite of myself. “But is it your responsibility to get that knowledge for others? After all, Arianne will be the reigning princess one day… I think.”

“She will,” the little scholar nodded. “Uncle Doran doesn’t want to go against you.”

“I never said she should be the next ruler. In fact, I explicitly said I wouldn’t touch the succession issue.”

“But you approve of her, and that is reason enough.”

“I approve of her as a companion and occasional lover.”

“And that is enough,” she said again. To be fair, she was probably right. Why wouldn’t Doran want his heiress to be close with a powerful sorcerer? 

“Which brings us back to my original question: Why not ask for something that pleases you, child?” I nudged gently. 

She looked down shyly at her feet. “All my sisters have their paths in life. Obara and Nymeria follow after father’s footsteps. Tyene is Arianne’s best friend and your lover. Even Elia is the ‘Little Lance.’ And then there is me, the fourth daughter, the one who likes to read.”

“There is nothing wrong with that, you know. It is my humble opinion that Westeros does not value knowledge nearly as much as they should, and the strength of their meager arms far too much. It is your love of knowledge that earned you my favor. That is not nothing.”

“I know. And that is why I want to add to House Martell’s reign in my own, small way. I reject the tomes you offer, Charlie. Give me a book that can enlighten my people in all aspects of their lives. Help me to show them that knowledge itself can be a treasure.”

“I… I’m impressed. You really did think about this,” I said slowly, a wide smile forming on my face.

“Then?”

“I will get you what you seek. I have the information, but in many books and article entries and data crystals. I’m happy to compile the information for you, but you’ll have to wait a little while.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, beaming up at me.

I tousled her hair and lifted her and her helpers into the air. “Naturally. I always keep my word, Sarella. Come, let’s go to Sunspear. I really did miss your family.”

“Hmph, I bet you missed sleeping with Tyene and Arianne.”

“I did,” I said shamelessly. “And teaching Elia jousting. And trying out seafood in Planky Town with Garin.”

I approved. Maybe it was the spirited, hopeful enthusiasm of youth, but she completely defied my expectations. And that was something I'd remember for a long time to come.

X

I tried to wiggle out of bed. Tyene was still asleep, clothed in thin nightclothes and arms wrapped around my tails, so I wrapped her up and carried her along, making sure to support her spine and neck comfortably. I’d spent the night in Sunspear, catching up with Arianne and the Sand Snakes.

The princess looked expectedly smug when it came to her marriage troubles. Last I checked, she’d been upset that Doran kept setting her up with men three or four times her age. Obviously, that stopped once she became a frequent guest in my bed.

I didn’t know what exactly had been said between father and daughter. All I knew was that my friend seemed content with however things had shaken down. So long as that was the case, I supposed the details didn’t matter too much. I’d catch up on all this castle gossip eventually, but that all could wait.

What couldn’t wait was the giant pot full of soybeans I’d let soak overnight. This overnight soak was the first step to making soy milk, that all-important creation that was the foundation of my sacred food. Not everything, I’d left some for the Martells and portioned out a bit more to ferment into soy sauce later.

I probably looked ridiculous, with Tyene snuggled in my tails and a pot big enough for a person to stand inside in my arms. To their credit, the servants and soldiers of Sunspear barely flinched at the sight. Even a year since my last visit, they retained their inoculation to my antics.

“Good morning, Master Fox,” one of the soldiers called as I carried the pot outside.

“Shh, be quiet. Tyene’s still sleeping,” I said, wiggling the bundle of tails behind me. 

“Ah, that she is. Apologies.”

Snickering to myself, I set my pot down in a shaded corner and peeped inside. The beans had taken on water overnight. They plumped up until they became oblong, which was how I knew they were ready.

With a wave of my divine spear, I drained most of the water. Then, I conjured a large chunk of stone and mashed everything until it became a smooth slurry. Third, I separated the fluid from the pulp, simply willing it to levitate into a second pot pulled from my inventory.

Was it excessive to use the boons of a World Item to make mashed bean juice? Probably.

Was I going to stop? Never.

The pulp itself, I set aside for now. It was referred to as “okara,” a highly nutritious ingredient that could be used as a substitute for flour. It was also common in vegan protein options or as animal feed, provided it had been cooked through to eliminate certain chemicals.

The same went for the milk. It needed to be heated and kept at a low simmer for fifteen to twenty minutes. I didn’t know why exactly, but the recipe book I had said raw soy milk would give people stomachaches. I had half a mind to just purify the raw soymilk of poisons, but opted to do it the traditional way instead so I could extract yet another soybean product.

Heating soy milk caused a thin layer to form on the surface. This thin layer could be harvested and was called “yuba,” a rich, deeply savory ingredient common in hot pots everywhere. Personally, I liked it pan-fried as a drinking snack.

Tyene began to stir as I slowly brought the simmered milk to cool. “Hmm? Charlie? Where am I? Why am I outside?”

“I wanted to make tofu but you wouldn’t let go of my tails,” I said, completely reasonably.

“So you dragged me outside in my nightclothes.”

“You’re Dornish. You wear less during the day than in bed.”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” she huffed as I set her on her feet. “I need to go back inside and wash up.”

I chuckled and cast a wave of prestidigitation over her. “There, washed.”

Her mouth opened, then closed. Her hands reached up to play with her hair, only to find it completely clean and free of knots. “Okay, that’s not fair. Do you know how long it takes a lady to get ready in the morning?”

“Skill issue, Tyene,” I hummed, ears flicking in amusement. I carefully portioned out nigari, a coagulant left behind after salt was extracted from seawater. Apparently, it was mostly magnesium chloride. After stirring gently, I stood back with satisfaction. “There, that’s good.”

“It doesn’t look much like tofu.”

“It’s still soy milk. Now, we wait for the curds to form. Once that happens, I’ll pile them in cheesecloth and press until they hold together.”

“That’s it? That is surprisingly simple for a food you consider divine.”

“Sometimes, simple is best, my dear.”

“Hmm, so you say,” she hummed, leaning her head against my shoulder.

That was how we spent our morning. I toasted the okara, cooking away all the harmful chemicals and leaving behind a highly nutritious, fiber-rich flour. When the curds formed, I pressed them into small boxes and placed them in my inventory to set.

When one of the servants came out with warm bread for us, I passed her the batch of okara. They could use it as a substitute for flour or an additive to stews. She returned shortly after so she could learn to process soybeans this way. It really was a highly flexible crop, producing milk, tofu, yuba, and okara with each harvest. And that wasn’t even talking about the king of Japanese condiments: soy sauce.

X

That evening, I sat with Oberyn, Doran, and Arianne in Doran’s solar. Apparently, Arianne had begun to take a deeper interest in the proper governance of Dorne. That was good; it was nice to see my friend getting opportunities to prove herself as a leader.

Doran used his solar more often now that I cured him of gout. There was a large map stretched out over a table the size of a wagon bed. It was made of thick parchment and detailed with exacting precision to show every house and landmark in Dorne, the Reach, and the Stormlands as well as much of the Stepstones. With the kind of precision on display, the damn thing probably cost more than most noble houses made in an entire harvest.

“So, why am I here?” I asked Oberyn. “You know how I feel about the ‘great game’ you humans are obsessed with.”

“It’s stupid, self-destructive, and especially pointless because we will all be dead and gone in the blink of an eye,” he paraphsed me with a glib smile. “Yes, you’ve made your position quite clear.”

Doran took a rolled up parchment from his desk and handed it to me. “This came by raven a fortnight ago. Now that you have returned, I believe it warrants your attention.”

I took the letter with a curious hum. “Oh? For me? Who would even bother?”

“Just because you do not care for the game does not mean others will respect your wishes.”

“Fine. Let’s see here… announcing a tourney… Prince Tommen’s nameday… sorcerer is invited to present himself…” I burned it to cinders and looked up with an annoyed scowl. “It’s basically a royal summons in six months’ time.”

“Five and a half, but yes. Word of ‘Master Fox’ has spread, especially since your actions in Planky Town. In the past year, I have identified fourteen spies in Sunspear, more in the Shadow City itself.”

“And those are the ones who are stupid enough to get caught,” I mused.

“Quite.”

“But I was in Planky Town last year. Why has it taken so long for them to come calling, then?”

Arianne chuckled. She picked up one of my tails and began brushing it. “This is quite fast, actually. Not everyone can fly or open gates that disregard distance as you do. Merchants have to set sail. Spies have to send runners, or perhaps ravens if they are fortunate. Most of all, they have to be believed, and you, my friend, are quite unbelievable.”

“Huh, fair enough. I suppose a year just to receive news and relay orders is pretty reasonable in that light. So Robert Baratheon wants me to show myself before the court on his son’s nameday. Isn’t Tommen the second prince? Do they usually get tourneys? I was under the impression that spares don’t really receive much in the way of special treatment.”

“No, even I do not get nameday tourneys in my honor and I’m the eldest. Usually, there is a small feast for the castle and alms given to the poorest in the city. But the king is a man known for excess. He does not need a reason to celebrate and will take every excuse he can.”

“This is not Robert’s doing, but his Hand’s,” Oberyn said. “The letter is far too polite, for starters.”

“As you say, uncle.”

“So the royal court wants to take the measure of me,” I nodded in understanding. “That’s to be expected, I suppose.”

“We were at a bit of a loss on what to do because you were gone for so long.”

“Didn’t I give Tyene a prayer slip?”

“You also told her you’d turn her into a bird and teach her to overcome her fear of heights if she used it for frivolous reasons. ‘Forceful exposure therapy,’ I believe were the words you used,” Arianne said dryly.

“Ah, so I did,” I laughed sheepishly. “I’ll give her a more reliable way to contact me next time.”

“Will you attend?” Doran asked. He was already making plans for both possibilities.

“Hmm… I mean, I could just tell him to pound sand. There isn’t anything he can do to me.”

“If you do, it will be perceived as an insult, not just by you, but by Dorne as a whole. Any missive you send could be penned by another’s hand. And like it or not, association with a sorcerer of your caliber represents a strategic advantage that cannot be ignored.”

“Then let it be an insult from Dorne,” Arianne scoffed. “We cannot make Charlie attend; he is beholden to no mortal throne. Besides, the Usurper surely knows how we feel about him and his Lannister whore. What is one more insult? It is no less than he deserves.”

I wondered what I should do. The three of them began to discuss what might happen, with the assumption that I would be ignoring the summons. After all, what was a king to a god? If anything, I should be demanding that he come to me if he wanted an audience so badly.

Doran wasn’t wrong. No matter my thoughts on the matter, the Iron Throne couldn’t afford to ignore a caster of my level. Robert Baratheon and Jon Arryn would be downright irresponsible as rulers to do so. And strictly speaking, they were being polite. Jon Arryn was a wise man indeed.

But Arianne was right as well. Dorne already had a poor relationship with the rest of Westeros. It wouldn’t be wrong to say they were barely part of the “Seven Kingdoms” as things stood. In that sense, Dorne’s willingness to insult the crown would come as a surprise to absolutely no one.

The question was, what would be the consequence of this? I doubted Jon Arryn would muster for war, but higher taxes were a given. A blockade of trade, perhaps? Dorne did import grain from the Reach, after all. It’d mean House Martell’s vassals wouldn’t be happy. Then there were the other kingdoms to consider. Surely they would not remain silent.

Like it or not, I had to admit that my presence had ripple effects on the geopolitics of the Seven Kingdoms. I still believed that mortals should be ruled by mortals, but not going would have consequences. My absence would leave them free to dictate the narrative.

And, if I was being truthful, I’d already interfered. Last year, I levied a very clear threat to the pirate lords of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea. I planned to give Sarella a treasure trove of knowledge. Even if I left the implementation to her and Sunspear’s maesters, just the provision of knowledge was a big deal.

I shook my head. It wasn’t that complicated. Mortals should be ruled by mortals. But that did not mean I wouldn’t do as I pleased. I planned to go see the other kingdoms eventually. They wanted to take my measure, so why not take theirs in turn?

“I’ll go,” I said softly. It still quieted them. “In fact, I’ll take a month or two out to tour the Seven Kingdoms.”

“I-Really? You’ll attend? Just like that?” Arianne asked, bewildered. “But you hate the Iron Throne.”

“I don’t. I hate the pointless scheming. That said, not attending means ceding control of the narrative. And, I figure the nameday celebration of the second prince is about as stress-free a setting as I’m likely to get.”

“That’s true. They are being uncharacteristically diplomatic in that regard. If you ignore them, they may do something unwise. Pity, I would have loved to see them incur your wrath.”

“You’d be disappointed. I’m not the type to smite people simply because they annoy me.”

“So be it,” Doran said with quiet relief. “I will send ravens accordingly. When will you depart from Sunspear?”

“You said the tourney is in five and a half months. I can be anywhere in the world on a whim so it’s not like I’m pressed for time. I’ll stay here for a little while longer.”

“Do as you please, then. You are free to come and go as a guest in Sunspear.”

“Good. Now, what would be a good gift for Tommen? How old is he, again?”

Author’s Note

Charlie is thinking that if he “rewards” Sarella for a job well done, then other factions can’t complain that he favors the Sand Snakes too much. Untrue of course, but he likes to make that distinction anyway.

Raw soy milk or beans will give you indigestion because of anti-nutritional chemicals like trypsin inhibitors. Trypsin is an enzyme that helps the body break down food in the small intestines. Charlie doesn’t care about the biochemistry, only that it needs to be cooked.

Animal Fact: California ground squirrels play a giant game of bluff with rattlesnakes. They will find shed snakeskin and rub it over themselves. Then, the next time they meet a rattler, they will engorge their tails with blood and wave it about.

This makes them look much bigger than they are. And, because they smell like rattlesnake skin and the waving tail looks a bit like a snake, there is a chance the rattlesnake will mistake the squirrel as a bigger member of its own species and back off.